Surviving Odessa
by Milarca
Summary: Sylar is captured by the Company. What happens behind the scenes at Primatech Paper, and can Sylar handle it? Do you *really* know what was going through his head during those fateful days? Well I sure did.. and this is the result. Rated T to be safe.
1. Preface

Surviving Odessa: Preface

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_I have to get away. _He_ is dead, the cheerleader is not... just barely slipped through my fingers, that one. But that is unacceptable. I will be back, I will find her again. It shouldn't be too hard. Only because _he_ was there to protect her did she escape. That won't happen again though, she will go home... and I will find her there._

For now... _I had to leave._

The figure wove through the forest underbrush, his mind reeling but set on his course of action. He was therefore unaware of the man and woman in his path until he was directly in front of them. He stopped and his hands twitched, ready to be of use as soon as needed.

_Now who are these people? They look like they have some _interesting_ talent..._

"You don't want to hurt me," the woman said in a cherry-sweet voice. The man blinked, _that was strange. Almost as if..._

"We just need to talk. You can tell me _all about_ yourself. But first..."

_What _is_ that? My mind, I can't..._ the man glanced to his left, at the strange black man, who hadn't said a thing. He'd sworn there were heard two voices. Not the one that was now vibrating on the inside of his mind.

"G_o to sleep. You need to sleep."_

_There it was, the double meaning in her words, I can feel them. _Her words were thick and heavy in the back of his head. But yes... he did need to sleep. He was incredibly tired.

And the hand on his face, pushing him into unconsciousness didn't help either, and it was not intentionally that the figure collapsed onto the pine-carpeted forest floor.


	2. I Am Sylar

Chapter Two:

I Am Sylar

-------

5-9-6; the code is swiftly punched in and light floods a small concrete cell. Its sleeping prisoner is instantly awake, and blinks in surprise at the abrupt awakening. His hands find the mattress and push his upper body into a sitting position, pushing the heavy blanket away_. _His eyes adjust and he focuses on the glass is his line of sight. Glass? A chill goes down his spine as he looks around.

_Perfect. _He's in a concrete room, a ceramic basin and toilet in the corner, the door, the glass, the raised concrete bed he is now occupying. And on the other side of the glass is... _you_. He stares at his captor, taking in everything from his horn-rimmed-glasses to the cold eyes that are trained on him. There is only shock for Primatech's newest inmate.

"You lost a lot of blood. We sewed you up the best we could."

_Ah, the devil speaks. _But he tensed all the same, assessing his body. He was sore all over and, wait, is my foot_ broken? God, what did they do to me._

"Turns out you're not so untouchable after all."

That did it. Pure hatred flowed through him for the briefest of seconds as he surged the power forward. This man would not live a second longer for what he had done. There was a beat. Nothing.

"Oh, no. No, you'll find your abilities won't work – not in here. And you're not going anywhere, Gabriel."

_No, that is not my name. He's wrong. And what has he done to me? Why am I powerless?_

"My name is Sylar." The air scratches his throat and he swallows automatically. He takes a breath, the warm bed is no longer attractive to him and he winces as he moves his legs out from under the rough blanket. The floor is cold on his bare feet.

"Now it is. I wasn't so long ago that you were Gabriel Gray; an insignificant watchmaker."

He doesn't comment right away, and concentrates on limping to the glass. It makes him grind his teeth but he wants to be standing. Maybe they will return if he has some decent blood flow.

"I restore timepieces. You know why I was so good at it?" _Why not humour him? It'll keep his mind off other things._

"No, why don't you tell me?" HRG guy's voice comes in with slight static that gives Sylar a smile.

"Because I can see how things work," he moves slowly, testing his strength. "What makes them... _tick._" He says this last word forcefully and looks up, making eye contact; making his meaning clear_. _He keeps his face straight for the moment and lets that sink in. "Like you."

"We're interested in how things work as well. Everyone else we've... met... has had only one ability. You've taken on _several._"

_Yes, I have. Good for you; you noticed. I can die a happy man now._

"I guess that's what makes me special."

"That's important to you, isn't it? –Being special."

"It's important to everyone," he snaps, the game becoming tiring.

"I think you're insane."

_I don't think that. I'm only helping the world. There's nothing wrong with helping the world... and getting a little something in return of course._

"I think the infusion of so many alterations to your DNA has corrupted your mind; all this power is degrading you."

_Degrading me? _Sylar angrily comes over to the glass, his walk irregular because of the injury.

"And yet here I am alive and well and as soon as I get out I'm going to collect _one more ability_ from your daughter." Sylar hisses menacingly, inches from the pane. HRG guy stops, his face blank but now drained of colour. _Oh yes, I'm going there._

"Sweet. Innocent." It's just too much for Sylar and he is savouring the moment.

"That's _enough._" _Not even close. _

"Ripe. _Indestructible." _he pronounces the word with relish, liking the taste of it on his tongue; it would soon be his.

"I said _that's enough_, Gabriel!"

"MY NAME IS SYLAR!!!" he slams against the glass, his hands splayed as he shouts his defiance on deaf ears.

The HRG guy's tight lips turn up in victory and Sylar can only watch as the cell is once more plunged into darkness.


	3. Calm

Chapter Two:

Calm

-------

After Syalr's outburst, he somehow managed to end up back on the bed. It wasn't completely dark, as he had earlier assumed; there was light coming from a grate near the floor and in indents in the wall. It was just enough that he could make out where the four walls were but not much else... and certainly not enough to see if anybody was on the other side of the glass. It was like a mirror, and this irritated him. He looked at the offending article again, and stopped. His reflection was just a pattern of light and dark, with dark hollows where his eyes were, but there was _no_ mistaking it. He reached a slow hand to his head and felt the short bristles.

_They cut my hair?!_ He ground his teeth together in annoyance. That was unnecessary; he was not a sheep for them to shear. What another _wonderful_ point to add to the list of reasons of why he should kill everyone in this damned place. Painfully. But he had to be patient; that was an important key he'd learned long ago.

Not that he had anything to worry about; they wouldn't do anything to him. They wouldn't do anything to him before he escaped, that is. And he would not give them that chance, but being patient did not mean waiting around, it just meant waiting for their guard to be lowered. Even a minute amount would be _all_ that he needed.

But he needed his power too; the extent of his knowledge and expertise could only be watered down so much. _Hmm... Time for an analysis?_ The blankets perhaps; could he do it? He stared at them for a few moments, just staring, almost trying to deny the truth. But he could hardly wait forever, and he summoned the power he knew he possessed and concentrated on it. The current welled in his hands automatically and he smiled. He knew they were still there. They hadn't left him. He was just about to send it into the blankets to make sure he wasn't imagining anything when he felt a tightness around him.

This was so unexpected that Sylar released the energy in shock. Was that what was keeping his powers from him, some kind of force field? A person perhaps? The Haitian. _He_ was doing this. He tried to get the power back, forcing everything he had into getting _something_ back. But that was it, the power did not return. His hands looked normal... no, what was he thinking; this had nothing to do with his hands. He concentrated again, this time looking for the reason he could not expel. But it was just a sense of emptiness, and after a few minutes of these exercises he could no longer feel anything from himself. It was like a lighter with no means of ignition. He knew he possessed the power but his ability to summon said power had been lost. This filled him with a deep frustration and he had to work to calm himself.

When his mind was clear, after an attempt at meditation, Sylar thought logically. What could cause this? The walls, they could be lined with... what? Lead? Sylar doubted that mere _lead_ could stop him. Drugs? Possible. That was almost definitely why he'd been asleep for hours... No, wait, what about the girl? She had a part in this. And the Haitian. He must have the ability, this power... of destroying power? Interesting. They could be using their power collectively as well... There was a though; and a mirror image too, with him on one side and them on the other. Equally matched, so to speak. Although for the moment they were using this against him, keeping him in. The glass. It separated him from them.

But... he needed them. Without them he was nothing. No, _don't think like that_. There are always others to find, always others to feed off of. And his job would never be done, so there's one less thing to worry about.

Alright. Now to escape.

Sylar checked around the room, assessing his prison. He tapped and prodded, felt and listened, but it was a secure room, he could give _that_ to them, he finally deduced after minutes examination.

But as he did this assessment, he always found himself back at the glass, staring at it or thinking about it. With the lights out on both sides it would be impossible for him to tell if anyone was watching him. Not that he cared as much, but during the long hours of confinement he did spend a good deal of time just staring at that glass. Or not staring at it. Sometimes he felt he needed solitude and would turn his back on it. It was during one of these times, as Sylar tried his hand at rough meditation, that HRG guy came to call.


	4. Tick Tock

Four:

Tick Tock

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Sylar heard the snap of electricity as the lights go on, and then the clack of something being pushed through a slot in the wall; most likely food. What had _taken_ them so long? And _what_ were they waiting for? They might just be playing with him, but he doubted that was the case. They would attempt to get what they wanted from him in their own sweet time. But he was becoming bored with the whole thing; he wanted action. Why wouldn't they give him _that?_ This amused him, and he allowed himself a perky smile. He knew Bennet was behind him and he decided to have some fun.

"You see yourself as some kind of humanitarian, don't you? A do-gooder, a hero... kidnapping men and women who are different." Yes, all of that power must be going to the poor man's head. Tisk, tisk, to sin, to sin. "...Does it make you feel _powerful?"_

Sylar had a feeling that HRG guy would want to look at his face, but that wasn't part of the deal. He turns his head away; if he could keep some part of his free will, he would try. And try to the skin of his teeth until death itself took him. Which wasn't very likely in the near future, he was willing to bet.

"We're quite alike, you know. You collect special people... so do I." Sylar added when HRG guy didn't respond. There was a beat before the cold, crisp voice came over through the speakers.

"We're going to take you apart, Gabriel."

Sylar kept his expression hidden, but even _he_ couldn't stop a small part of him from questioning what Bennet meant by that.

"Like one of your little watches. Sorry—timepieces. And we're going to find out exactly what makes you... _tick._"

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Sorry for the shortness of this one ^^; I promise the next will be better, and longer :)


	5. The Girl Next Door

**Hey Guys :) Here's a new chapter for you, but I have to comment on something. So I'm a relatively new Heroes fan; I watched a few new episodes and was interested (mainly because of Zach :) so I rented the first season. There being some kind of break now and no re-runs, what was I suppose to do? D= So anyway, it was great and I'm just starting the third season. (Currently on ep.6: no spoilers please!!) But when Sylar and Noah became partners sort of... it just screwed me right up. I mean, seriously?! It's crazy, and I'm still a little shaken. Sylar is now the strangest person I have even come across. He was basically tortured by this guy and he has no hard feelings whatsoever. What's up with that? I'm torn between the idea that he's just misunderstood and forgives easily... or heavily screwed up but still the awesome Sylar that we all know and love. I prefer the latter, but it makes _does_ make me wonder...**

Five:

The Girl Next Door

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Minutes of silence after Bennet's threat, Sylar noticed that feeling in his stomach. Oh yes, he was hungry. _Well good timing on their part, I guess,_ he thought, sliding off the bed and sauntering over to the slot in the wall.

He ate every morsel of the plastic wrapped food, deeming his hunger a priority over dignity, not that he cared much for their opinions. It was disgusting, probably days old, but it quelled the gnawing.

Once finished, he put everything neatly away and washed his face and hands. The water was cold but it helped him think.

Back to that girl, he knew he had seen her before... somewhere. The glimpse he had of her from the other night was blurred to him and he couldn't place it. Her eyes, they were the defining feature; they were so wide and wonderfully hazel, something he couldn't forget.

He concentrated on the blurry image he had of her, just for something to do. But that couldn't keep his interest for long and soon he was agonizingly aware of his cell and its cramped interior. From where he was, lightly leaning against the bed, he glared at the floor, trying to feel something; _anything,_ from his apparently lost power. And there it was, for the briefest of moments he felt his mind react to what he was telling it.

Even before he could process this wonderful fact the buzzer sounded and the lights came on. He looked up and there she was, that girl with the eyes. He got up and walked over to the glass, his eyes on her grim face. _Eden_. He knew her name all along...

"I do know you, don't I?"

Sylar's eyes flicker to the gun she's just drawn out from her jacket, but back to her face almost instantly.

"I live next door to Chandra Suresh."

Yes! Yes, he remembered now.

"That _wonderful_ ability… the power of persuasion, and the whole time you were the girl next door..." Sylar is pleasantly surprised at this new information, but his face goes blank with curiosity in the next moment.

"I'm going to take this gun and I'm going to put it in that slot and you're going to take it."

Ugh, that voice, that double voice in the back of his head! No, she would _not_ have control over him.

"...and you're going to blow your brains out."

"You knew, didn't you?!" the pain of her voice and this revelation hits Sylar head on and before he can think about it his mind did what it always did; it summoned the power. He raised his hand and Eden is pulled through the glass, he grabs her throat and holds her captive lying on the edge of the broken divider.

"You knew what I was and you let it continue!"

Eden gasps frantically but he is tightly in control, squeezing the life out of her in his fury.

"And the way you helped me," He chuckles wolfishly. "And after I've consumed your power you'll help me even more..." Oh yes, now that he was in control again he must be still able to gain abilities, starting with hers. His mind is a buzz of activity as he quickly basks in the idea of himself the bearer of such a gift.

He barely glances down as Eden directs the gun at him. "Oh, Eden, you know that won't hurt me."

But Sylar is taken completely by surprise because Eden is not done yet. She tilts the gun a few degrees, it is now pointed directly at her head, and shoots. Blood splatters the glass – and Sylar. He is paralyzed; he had not expected her to _kill _herself. Begging for mercy maybe but…

He is instantly furious, his shock gone, and he growls viciously while hurtling the still warm corpse into the wall. He barely notices the blood on his face as he targets the external door and control panel beside it. A tiny part of him is hoping against reality that he could simply press a button. No such luck; and one look proved it: password only. He doesn't even try the combination and wills all of his energy into moving the door.

He sees it quiver but before he can react the door slams open. He doesn't move and his brain reacts for him, sending a black-clad guard spinning into the wall. Three quickly follow, their guns aimed at him. He tries to use his power again but he is devastated to learn that it is gone. His eyes frantically sweep the vicinity, from the guards now surrounding him to Mr. Bennet, who's own eyes are locked somewhere behind him.

Time is gone before he realizes he'd lost it, as heavy-duty tranquilizer darts come flying out of the guns and imbed themselves in his chest. He lets out a yell of pain and stumbles back into the concrete bed, gripping the sides fiercely. His eyes are shut tight as he fights to keep control of his body. He feels rough hands on him, but he is past noticing. The pain is now immense and self-preservation kicks in. Sylar is unable to stop his body from submitting to the drug, and he slips painfully into an inky and numbing blackness.

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Please read and review guys, it really does lift my spirit when I get feedback (good and bad; please tell me how I'm doing) and know that people are enjoying something I've written =]


	6. Not so Dangerous

**Six:**

**Not so Dangerous**

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Mr. Bennet stands behind the glass, his charge half-conscious and sprawled out on the bed. He's woken several times but the tranquilizer drug they used is slow working and keeps him locked in a cycle of semi-awareness. This was intended to stop people like Sylar escape the company. Noah was grimly pleased that it was doing its job now.

"Not so dangerous are we, Mr. Sylar?" Noah says. It is utterly quiet except for his and The Doctor's breathing. Because the microphone that would enable Sylar to hear their conversation was turned off at the moment, The Doctor took this time to inform Bennet on their progress.

"We've gone over every strand of code; trying to find the code-on switch that identifies his aptitudes – other than telekinesis, we're drawin' a blank." The Doctor looks in at Sylar as well, nothing but mild frustration in his voice.

"Has he responded to the glycimerine?" Bennet said, meaning the drug that was now being steadily pumped into Sylar's system; they reasoned that the high dosage would keep him drained enough that he wouldn't rip the tube out, hence him being kept unrestrained. For now at least; _this is only the beginning. _

"Given him enough to kill an elephant; nothing. We're no closer. If we keep up at this rate he'll be dead by tomorrow."

_How I wish it could be that way, the man doesn't even deserve to live, _Bennet thought, but he kept his voice even and sure as he replied, "After what he did to Eden he'd deserve it. ...Unfortunately they haven't authorized that. He stays alive... You're just going to have to dig deeper." Bennet looked over to The Doctor and they share a significant glance.

Noah needed to get back and he leaves the doctor pondering their conversation

The doctor is now alone with the still-powerful and deranged Sylar as Mr. Bennet exits the surveillance area and the door clicks shut.

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_Oh, God, what are they _doing_ to me?_

He is unable to fight back as two men remove his shirt and straighten him on the bed. He groans and one of the men flinches; Sylar sees it and attempts a weak smile. They now take the four enforced straps, one at a time, and attach them to the bed's underside, each locking firmly with the click of metal, and then across his body to the other side. Sylar vaguely wonders what the straps are for but the drugs are keeping him sleepy and confused.

Once their prisoner is adequately secured and the straps have been double checked, the two relieved men exit the cell, their job done. But the doctor's is not, and he goes in alone moments after the two men leave.

Sylar is almost peaceful looking, his breath coming easily and his face relaxed. Not that he could help it; the glicimerine isn't even a government-_known_ drug. The company had developed it, along with many others, but most were in the experimental phase, and who better than Sylar to help us test them out, the doctor thought as he got to work.

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**More to come =) and I'm really trying to write better so I just hope you guys can work with me. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, i know it's not much but i'll update sooner, I promise ^_^**


	7. Window

**Seven:**

**Window**

**----------**

Sylar is awake now, and placidly watches as the Doctor takes small wires and attaches them to his bare chest, arms and head. He allows himself a grimace as one is stuck onto his forehead; how _annoying_ this Doctor is.

When a machine to the side is rhythmically beeping to the anthem of Sylar's relatively calm heartbeat, the Doctor nods to himself and takes out several syringes from his white bag. He fusses with the pointy objects and his hands shake minutely as he tests the flow of liquid onto a metal tray. Sylar's eyes slide from the shiny piece of metal to The Doctor and he doesn't flinch as the cold syringe is put to his skin. He can almost hear the sound of skin breaking. Ugh.

As he is being injected, Sylar can't help but notice how The Doctor's eyes never once meet his own.

"You enjoy the thrill of this, don't you, Doctor?" Sylar's eyes are alight with his new toy. The Doctor doesn't respond but that is to be expected.

The change was sharp and agonizing. Sylar sucked in a breath and jammed his eyes shut. The feeling was like liquid electricity, burning its way through his veins. At first it's just in his toes, but then it spreads. He screams in pain, and jerks at the restraints. He is now breathing hard, his jaw clenched shut and his hands tight fists. After a jarring three minutes, the pain starts to subside. But Sylar does _not_ relax his rigid body as his senses are, slowly, given back to him. When he can no longer feel anything he shouldn't, he unclenches his jaw and takes a deep breath.

The machine monitoring his vitals is beeping furiously with the rapid beats of his heart and Sylar silently curses it.

The Doctor is at his side, furiously taking notes and checking the small computer which is monitoring his now slightly irregular vitals. After a few minutes Sylar's heartbeat slows and the beeps become fewer in between, more regular.

Without warning, the Doctor exits the cell, and Sylar is left alone with only the beeping machine for company.

It is a tiring half hour later when the Doctor re-emerges with a dolly and medical fluid bag attached. The liquid inside looks clear, but colour is hardly an accurate indicator. He then types something in the extrorsely facing laptop. When he's done, The Doctor opens his bag and takes another syringe from his bag, immediately sticking it into Sylar's arm. The effect is instantaneous and Sylar is out like a light in moments; the blackness a sorry relief.

After a few hours of testing, The Doctor is once again taking notes on the laptop, his mind only on what he has observed. It is a few seconds before he registers the fact that Sylar's breathing has faltered. He is about to investigate further when Sylar coughs roughly, and jerks at the restraints.

_Oh God, he's choking._

Not wanting to actually kill his patient, the Doctor began to swiftly unlatch the restraints. That done, he looked around for a bucket and saw one in the corner he was using just before. He held it out and the now unrestrained Sylar grabbed it; just in time to retch into.

He made a few more gagging noises, directed them into the bucket before swallowing disgustedly. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed with the bucket under his chin. One minute he was under, his mind only partially aware of what was happening to it and the next he couldn't breathe. But as he had earlier assumed, these people here would not let him die, and there had been relief when he could lean over and clear his burning throat.

He stared at the bucket for a moment but then dropped it to the floor in mild disgust and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He paused, and noticed the tube in his nose, still pumping him with who knows what. He jerked it out and flung it to the floor.

"What the _hell_ was that?" he said, wiping one hand on his pants. The Doctor was wide-eyed and against the wall. Sylar had to wait a few seconds before recieving an answer.

"Th- the glicimerine reacted negatively to-- to your amuse system, prompting… your reaction_._" He gulped and glanced down to the tube on the floor, visibly afraid to be cornered by the free and dangerous killer.

"And why didn't you realize this sooner, Doctor?" Sylar said smoothly, his gaze piercing a hole through the Doctor's head. What Sylar didn't realize was that as soon as he was handed the bucket, the Doctor had pushed his emergency button, signalling a support team.

Sylar slid down from the improvised examination table and took a few slow steps toward the shaking man. He was in arms reach when the team burst in, all guns aimed at his chest. He looked up, surprised, and raises his hands peacefully, but not in surrender. He could feel his power returning; it was just a slow trickle of energy but _all_ that he needed. He didn't protest though, as one of the guards roughly jabbed him with a tranquilizer. The effects are as before, but this time Sylar does not fight; his window of opportunity has come.


	8. Not the End

Short chapter, but the next'll be worth it; it's my second favourite :) But guys, please review.. it's frustrating to get 120 hits and only _three_ reviews. It doesn't take that long, and means the world to me, so please take two minutes and say something. I'll update faster if you do...

**Eight:**

**Not the End**

**----------**

A light is shone into Sylar's eye. He is unconscious but hardly resting; he jerks and takes sharp and quick breath. _The effects of the drug injected into him are failing; his body is rejecting the intrusion. We could counter it with..._ The Doctor absently reaches for a clipboard to record these strange findings but stops when Mr. Bennet enters, his eyes on the patient strapped to the table.

Wires and tubes are attached to Sylar's head and chest, he is pale and dehydrated. This doesn't affect Bennet; it's just business to him. If his body can't handle it... they'll find another body; _use and replace._

The Doctor grabbed the machine's readouts; though its information was frayed and inconsistent.

"I'm not sure what's happening. His vitals are extremely irregular." The doctor said, just as Sylar hiccoughed, his head jerking loosely.

"After all we've done to him I'm not surprised--Keep him stabilized."

_Well I'm trying, now aren't I?_ _And what if it's not enough? What if this new drug has no effect on him whatsoever?_ _Why don't we just kill him now? It'll take an extra problem off our hands..._

"There is another option." the doctor said slowly, testing the water.

Noah snapped back at him, "Our instructions are to keep him alive – do _whatever_ it takes." Sylar jerked and Noah looked down at him, as if remembering he was still there. There was only cold hatred in his blue eyes.

"If he crashes... you bring him back again, _and again_. When he dies it'll be on my terms, not his. Clear?"

There was a pause before the doctor nods accordingly, though Noah was still looking over the tops of his horn rimmed glasses at Sylar. The villain was shaking even more now, and his eyebrows twitched. He did not consciously know what had been said, but his reaction was chillingly defiant. _This is not the end..._

The though comes like a razor blade through Noah's mind and the older man took a quick step back.

_This is not the end..._


	9. Circumvention

**Nine:**

**Circumvention**

**----------**

Noah Bennet was at home; stress evident everywhere. He was worried about Claire and her renewed friendship with Zach; even though his memory was wiped clean she seemed determined to hold onto him. But just as long as he was no longer a threat to their life here, Noah saw no reason for her not to help herself. But their homework load was a little much, and why were they being so secretive? Something must be going on but he couldn't place it... whatever it was it couldn't be that bad. Claire would sort everything out on her own and if she needed him... he'd be there for her.

His cell phone rang, sending him out of his domestic thoughts and into the stress of keeping a dangerous villain against his will. Perfect; there must be something very wrong if he was being called at home. He snapped the phone open and answered briefly, "yes?"

"I did everything I could. He's dead."

It was the doctor; his words came out dry and hollow to Noah but the disappointment was still there. He wished he could have had longer with his patient. Noah felt a grim understanding at the statement but felt a hint of foul play. He doubted that Sylar would give up that easily; even with everything they'd put him through he wouldn't let himself die like this in such a common way. No, Sylar was still fighting; he could bet on that.

But for the doctor, Bennet put on a charade.

"Well that's less than ideal." And it was, because now he had to check this out and figure out what was going on.

"What do you want me to do with the body?" _Of course, the body, the body. _

"Get it ready for shipping, I'll be back later," he told the doctor to keep him busy, and then disconnects.

The doctor heard the line go dead and snapped his cell closed.

Why did the bastard have to die? They hadn't even done substantial testing on him yet. And his body had seemed perfectly normal, well, stable anyway. He just came back from picking something up in his lab and Sylar's heart had stopped. Just like that. The monitors read it out as a heart failure; tachycardia, the rapid beating of the heart for a quick few seconds, and then… nothing. The strain must just have been too much.

Clicking his tongue in thought, the doctor checked his instruments again; they were still on even though there was no more information input. A little disappointed but satisfied that the man was dead, the doctor started to unstrap Sylar. The belts unlatched from underneath the table easily, and were soon in wrapped away.

What the doctor didn't realize after he'd taken most of the wires and such off the body and was putting away other monitoring equipment, was that Sylar's chest had started, again, to rise and fall with the slow rhythm of awakening. The change was so insignificant that the doctor even pulled his cart around the table and its newly revived occupant without noticing a thing.

It took a few moments, but when he was sure he was alone, Sylar snapped his eyes open and immediately rose into a sitting position. Well that was an odd sensation; being dead. He didn't think he could pull it off; but apparently he could and the gamble had been a life-saving one. He glanced around him, aware that the doctor would be back any minute. Testing his ability, Sylar telekinetically pulled a small syringe into the air. He turned it around a few times in mid-air but then hurled it at the wall. The glass instrument smashed loudly, a firework of glass shards sprinkling to the cement floor like rain.

Glad to be fully operational again, Sylar cracked his neck once, slid off the table he now detested, and flattened himself against the wall; hidden from view. When the doctor came back in again through the open door, he froze.

At first it was a reaction to the fact that the table was empty and Sylar was gone. Moments later, those were the least of his worries, as Sylar walked into the doctor's line of sight. The door slammed shut and sent a wave of dread through the doctor. And with his patient now standing in front of him and very much alive, he began to sweat. The balding doctor then noticed a tightening around his throat; this made his eyes go wide and his breathing quicken rapidly.

"Hello doctor. Surprised to see me…?" Sylar telekinetically pushed the doctor back into the glass, his hand mimicking the position it would have held if he was actually choking the doctor. "Oh of course you are."

"You can't escape." The doctor choked, grimacing.

"You want to bet your life on that?" Sylar growled. His grip didn't tighten and it didn't need to; his victim's face was already turning purple.

The doctor sucked in a breath, hissing, while his hands curled into furious claws around his neck; trying in vain to rid himself of the invisible hands.

Bored already, Sylar snapped the doctor's neck with a twitch of his finger, ending the man's pathetic sniveling. The action make a sickening snap but Sylar hardly noticed, and guided the dripping corpse onto the table with less effort than it takes to lift a fork.

It wouldn't be polite to leave Noah without a parting gift, Sylar though as the doctor's limp form hovered over the table. He then eased it gently down with a hand, so as not to make noise. Some noises could be avoided; like the noise the doctor's thick skull would have made if he'd dropped it onto the cement table. No, Sylar was not in the mood for that. He was in the mood for waiting. And so he took the white cover the doctor had been carrying from the floor and threw it over his now lifeless corpse.

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Thank you all for the continuous reviews, I really and truly appreciate it. =D


	10. Escape

Last chapter :) And it's an even number too.

**Ten:**

**Escape**

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_All the best stories in the world are but one story in reality - the story of escape. It is the only thing which interests us all and at all times, how to escape._

_--Walter Bagehot_

Mr. Bennet strode through the halls of Primatech, quietly pleased that his top priority could now be crossed off the list. Sylar had been a big inconvenience to the Company; even though at the end they could have gained valuable information from him… he really was better off dead. But when Bennet came to the window of Sylar's separate cell something was not quite right. From the way the sheets fell on the body to the even more alarming drops of blood on the floor; something was wrong. Never one to run, Noah cautiously keyed in the code and entered the room, immediately going to the body.

He pulled back the sheet and his eyes widened in horror. He stumbled back from the gristly murder but had no time to escape, because Sylar had just stepped out of the shadows. His eyes were wide, dark, and bloodshot. His lips, slightly parted, were set in pleasant smile as he said to the frozen Noah:

"How's Claire?"

This question that is not really a question came out in a monotone, and before Noah could react, Sylar flicked up his hand and sent Bennet flying into the glass. The older man crumples to the floor and was left coughing and gasping at the impact.

Sylar, barefoot and clad in the standard white pyjama pants and tee, walked over. He stared down at his tormenter and simultaneously pulled the annoying shunt out of his head. He threw it to the ground beside Noah and growled, "That was for the hair cut_._"

His words were clipped, and had a hard, raw edge to them. He bent down and rifled through Noah's inside pocket. Finding what he needed, he withdrew his hand with the wallet and opened it briefly. He then turned to go, and extended his hand, but turned back for a moment, as if considering what to do with the groaning Noah. His mind made up before it was confused, he closed his splayed hand in one quick motion and the lights stuttered off.

In a cruel mockery of Noah's previous power, Sylar let the heavy door slam in his face as the man tried to right himself in time to get out.

Noah's pulse quickened when he realized what he'd gotten himself into. He turned slowly to the glass and to Sylar, who was now happily flicking cards out of the wallet, searching for the prize he so sought.

Noah pressed his palms against the glass in a subconscious gesture; his pulse slamed in his head and was becoming visibly more and more distressed.

_Sylar is out. And I'm in here. No, this cannot be happening._ _Is there some way to alert security from the cell?_ No, of course there wasn't. Why didn't he have some sort of key for an emergency like this? Why hadn't they taken more careful measures?!

Sylar was getting to the bottom of the wallet, but found what he needed soon enough; a drivers licence.... _with a home address_. Perfect. Sylar gazed almost lovingly at the little piece of plastic before turning it so Noah could see. He pressed it up against the glass and smiled hauntingly.

Noah couldn't help his face as it fell in realization.

"You shouldn't have built such a _good cage_." Sylar said, dragging the card around, taunting his former captor. "It was fun though," he grinned and looked pointedly down at the card.

If Noah could have gone any paler... he would have. The idea of him in here and Sylar out there, set on finding his daughter, was the most horrible though he realized he had ever had. This sent him into a frenzy.

"You go anywhere _near her...!" _he shouted, banging on the glass.

Sylar just smiled, flicking his eyebrows up once. He glanced back down to the card he held and automatically snapped his fingers, opening the heavy steel door. It swung open for him and Noah's desperate shouts were lost on deaf ears. Time for the fun to start, Sylar thought as he slipped through the door and into the halls of Primatech Paper. Of which, were about to be bathed in blood and the laughter of a killer seeking revenge and sweet... _sweet_ freedom.

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There you have it. And I hope you enjoyed it. Please review, it means the world to me. ^_^


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